Watching fights live

Editorial by Alika Webb

Once upon a time I went to see a boxing match with my best friend. To this day, I still consider it the most memorable fight I’ve ever seen live.

This match was for the Belgian title, a ten round fight. The champion was a dominant KO puncher and a household name in the Belgian boxing scene. The challenger was a complete unknown to me at the time, now I find myself unable to completely forget his name.

The champion came in and absolutely dominated from the get go. The technique, speed and agility from the champion in the early rounds was phenomenal and on point. The champion closed the distance in a heartbeat, landed a punishing sharp combination of punches and got out of harm’s way before the challenger could retaliate. The first couple of rounds consisted of the champion dancing circles around the challenger and beating him up in the process. The challenger didn’t even come close to getting some momentum going, the champion was always there to effectively shut it down before it even started. It was absolute destruction. The challenger looked completely outclassed and started to get pushed back most of the time. He looked like he was not even close to the champion’s level. It’s like he had brought not even a knife but a freaking spoon to a gunfight. But he never gave up and never stopped swinging back, despite hitting mostly nothing but air.

Now, after the first couple of rounds it was clear the champion’s combinations started to be topped off with a whopping knockout punch. And they landed flush. He was doing a lot of damage, though the challenger never let it show.

Halfway through the fight, the champion started to slow down a little. But it wasn’t because he was tired. He’d softened the challenger up and was going in for the kill. Every punch from then on out had only one purpose: knocking the challenger out. But the challenger’s chin didn’t break or shatter. The challenger ate all those devastating punches and kept throwing back some of his own. With every punch he swallowed, he looked the champion defiantly in the eyes and basically told the champion to give him another one, like the champion’s knockout punches didn’t even hurt.

The crowd was definitely warming up to the defiant underdog who just wouldn’t go down. Maybe it was getting on the champion’s nerves or maybe not, it was hard to tell to be honest. But when it looked like the challenger did get hurt for a split second, the champion pounced on him and brutalized him, raining down vicious blows in such a mad, frantic pace that it even had the crowd gasping for air. But the resilient challenger somehow made it out of that round alive and the crowd very much voiced their appreciation for the incredible display of heart from the challenger.

Maybe the champion was starting to get tired. Maybe he realized a knockout was just not going to happen that night and he knew he’d already done enough damage to win by decision. Maybe a little of both. However, the result was the same. The champion slowed his pace down tremendously, opening the door for the challenger to get in and do some damage of his own. The challenger started to retaliate, landing short thudding blows to the champion’s body. Now, it was clear these punches lacked the finesse and even the power of the champion’s punches. But they were landing and chiseling the air out of the champion’s lungs one punch at a time.

The challenger finally managed to close the distance after surviving multiple brutal assaults. He had already lost multiple battles but he hadn’t lost the war. He had walked through flames to get to his destination and didn’t come out unscathed but he got there nonetheless. Now it was the champion’s turn to look the challenger in the eyes and defiantly say: “hit me with your best shot!” That’s when it happened.

The challenger planted his feet, crouched down, bent his arm and pointed his fist upwards. He looked like he was ready to throw an uppercut for the ages. And then he started hopping around like a bunny, his arm remaining motionless in front of him and his elbow glued to his waist. I kid you not, the uppercuts he threw didn’t even look like they could hurt a fly. The entire crowd just went silent for a split second, not believing what they were seeing. And then one guy in the crowd stood up and screamed from the top of his lungs: “you got him! He’s hurt! Knock him out!” The crowd went bananas.

Now, I’ve been to dozens of stand up comedy shows and have seen some comedy plays before. Never in my life have I heard a crowd laugh that hard. I had tears in my eyes from laughing. I turned and looked at my best friend next to me, he was clutching his stomach because he was laughing so hard and just couldn’t stop. It was the greatest moment I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing live, a moment for the ages in Belgian boxing history. It was just a work of art. Naturally, the champion survived the bunny hop uppercut assault and ended up winning by decision.

Personally, I find this the greatest example of why you get most out of the experience buying a ticket and seeing the fight live, rather than watching it at home. Because I rewatched the fight a couple of days later on TV and it just didn’t have the same intensity and atmosphere. The commentator’s voices were louder than the vocal crowd, which was reduced to nothing but a background noise. And the crowd itself did play a huge part in my enjoyment of the fights. The music was also deafening live, while it was barely audible on TV. Now, what do you guys think? Would you rather watch a fight live or in the comfort of your own home on TV?

Article views: 56
» Donate to this author